


Emerald

by Omano



Series: Angel in the dark [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind AU, Blind!Dean, Established Relationship, M/M, one’s blind and falls in love with the other’s voice AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael takes Dean and the Impala on a small road trip, and Dean tries everything to convince his boyfriend, that even though he can't see a thing he could drive his beloved Impala just a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emerald

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LillianaNil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillianaNil/gifts).



> So, that fic of Kiss me hard before you go turned into a series, because LillianaNil asked me so nicely. 
> 
> Also partly for the last day of Micheanweek on tumblr. (I swear I wanted to make this shorter!)
> 
> I based my concept of blindness on the few people I know, so it is probably really far from accurate, forgive me for that.  
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.  
> Please, enjoy! :)

**Angel in the dark**

**_Emerald_ **

 

Michael enjoys driving in silence, but right at the moment he doesn’t dare to turn off the radio. It’s set on a classic rock station, because no one is allowed to touch it but the driver, and since it’s John Winchester’s car it’s always on something classic and eternal. Even when Michael gets special permission to take the Impala and Dean for a ride, he values his life enough to keep his hands to himself.

He only dared as much as to lower the volume to a soothing rumble that accompanies nicely the car’s engine.

They are on a straight road, so Michael glances to the side and cannot help the warmth that spreads in his chest. Dean has nodded off.

Ten minutes ago Dean was aggressively sulking. Lush, still kiss-reddened lips pinched into a pout that always made Michael smile, arms crossed over his chest and stubbornly turning away from his boyfriend.

“I only asked if I could drive a bit,” Dean sulked, and any five-year-old would feel jealous of that passive aggressive peevishness.

“And I told you all the ten times that I won’t risk your Father hunting me down if his car is broken on my watch.”

“I wouldn’t break her!”

“Of course you would. You are blind, Dean. You would wrap us around a tree in the first bend.”

“Fuck. You.” Dean hissed. Then his shoulders slumped in resignation. He added in a lower tone, “I’ve known these roads since I was born, you bitch. I could drive down them with my eyes closed.”

“That would make such a big difference,” Michael said gently, placating.

A muscle in Dean’s jaw tightened, but eventually his mouth pinched back from the sad, firm line into that adorable pout, and Michael counted it as a win.

Michael would lie if he claimed he wasn’t tempted for a fleeting second to allow Dean to sit behind the wheel. He trusts him. He trusted him even before they were together. Even before he realized he loved him. Or maybe that happened around the same time. He couldn’t tell, especially that he needed Lucifer to kick his ass to make them as a couple final. But all in all, Dean’s father was more threatening. Michael knew better. He really wants to achieve his MA degrees. He has worked hard enough for them.

He still can recall quite vividly the last time his life was hanging on a thread.

It happened during this Christmas-break which was more than eight months ago, but he really doesn’t want to relive the experience just yet.

John came to pick them all up and bring back to Kansas. Michael was maybe just a tiny bit remorseful that he didn’t spend Christmas with his brother,  but he made up for that on New Year’s Eve. So when they were packed in (Sam, the giant, carefully folded next to John) Michael might have dropped a belittling comment about the car and her age. Something about the Impala getting stuck in the snow.

The air in the Impala froze. It was colder inside than outside.

“Dude, you just signed your capital sentence,” Sam snickered from the front seat.

Dean was eerily quiet at his side and even Cas sent him a pitying look.

John scoffed. “Let me tell you, son,” (how much Michael hated being called son!) “She survives any blizzard, safe and sound.” He pointed at the Sedan that came in the opposite line, “Even better than that flashy sports car.”

Michael frowned.

“Oh my God!” Dean exclaimed by his side with the exasperated frown he wore when Michael did something worse than the Original Sin. “Don’t tell me I’m dating a guy with no taste in cars!”

“No taste in cars?” Michael echoed incredulously.

“You can’t appreciate a classic.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Your frown did. I could _hear_ you frown, your highness. If you say you’d rather be in a Porsche or other gaudy shit metal-coffin, I swear it’s reason for breaking up.”

Suddenly, Michael felt as if he was in the middle of an arena fighting tigers and bears with bare hands. Dean’s hold tightened on his knee, as if to warn him for the way John eyed him via the rear-view mirror. Even Sam tried to give him some warning signs subtly. He already had a handicap for his “lack of taste in music” as he had experienced the last time he got tangled up in an argument with the eldest male members of the Winchester family.

He was at test here. Michael never failed a test. (It only motivated him better that he didn’t want John to go full ex-marine on him.)

“Well, I wouldn’t really buy a classic like this one,” Michael said coolly. Just as he answered at all his finals.

“What would you, then?” John asked, eyes flashing warningly.

Michael’s knee will have five dents where Dean’s fingers dug in. Tension cracked in the air.

“Rolls Royce. With a driver.” Michael deadpanned with a shadow of a smirk that Dean kissed away after letting out a relieved chuckle.

John hummed as well. Michael survived.

Michael wonders if he will ever pass all of John Winchester’s tests. Not that he cares that much, but it would be nice if Dean didn’t have a minor mental breakdown before he brings Michael home.

Now, though, as he glances to the side the sight is so endearing he only smiles even at the memory of Dean pacing the living room like a caged animal. It feels like he is falling deeper and deeper in love with each glance he steals of his boyfriend.

He loves the sight. Dean relaxed, in casual clothes he just threw on. Torn, well-worn pale jeans, threads standing out each and every direction as an obvious sign that Dean has been picking on them through most of his life, a loose black tank-top and the ever-present plaid shirt off one shoulder displaying a patch of golden star-shower. Even though he blushes furiously and bats at Michael’s shoulder every single time he tells Dean how beautiful he is, it doesn’t change anything at all. Michael decided he will kiss his praise to each freckle that covers Dean’s skin, and now at the end of summer he has even more tiny star to count.

Michael pulls the car to the side but doesn’t kill the engine just yet. He is not a real morning person and he has so little time admiring Dean asleep.

His gaze graces Dean’s features warmly as the sun filtering through the shrouds paints its patchwork on them. In the dance of the soft shadows he can make out the tiny white scars on Dean’s temple, a small cut next to his ear and one in the corner of his eyebrow.

Probably the only thing Michael feels remorseful sometimes is that he can never see what colour Dean’s eyes would glimmer seeing him.  Not that he doesn’t like them as they are now – quite the contrary, he finds the silver layer over the green orbs just as beautiful as the whole man. But there is just something he can’t help wondering about when he sees the pictures of Dean in his teen years hanging around in the family house.

Moreover, Mary was more than happy to show Michael Dean’s photo album. Dean tried to protest, “It’s not fair! Mom, stop embarrassing me! I can’t see his baby pics so he can’t see mine either!”

Dean gave an attempt to grab the album, but Michael was quick to catch his flailing hands and pulled him close to his side, kissing his pouting boyfriend on the cheek.

“I’m sure Luce will be thrilled to describe our whole photo-album in explicit detail.”

“But you looked like the same.” Dean pouted. “You can always claim it was him embarrassing himself and just trying to make you look stupid.”

“Shouldn’t it help you humiliate me? I’m sure you can use your imagination either way.”

Dean huffed. But later made sure to hunt down Lucifer and Michael had to survive the worst weekend of his entire life.

For the record he was very tempted to steal a picture or two from the album, because the colour of Dean’s eyes was painfully mesmerizing. They varied from bottle green through all the shades of the summer forest, speckled with brown and tinted thin lines of gold around the pupils, but Michael’s favourite was a close up of Dean smiling bright, the stars shining under his skin at a beach, one arm draped over Sam’s shoulders. His eyes though! There was no gem that could compete with that perfect shade of emerald.

By now those precious stones have gained an opalesque hue. But sometimes, when the sunrays beat down on Dean’s face just like right now Michael can steal flashes of that colour.

Michael kills the engine before he melts too much. As expected Dean wakes immediately.

“Jeeez!” he yawns and stretches awkwardly. “Haven’t I told you enough not to let me doze off?”

“You were too adorable.”

Dean pulls a mortified, disdainful grimace and smacks at Michael’s shoulder.

“Where are we? In the middle of nowhere?” he asks instead and opens the door to stretch his legs.

“Just where you instructed,” Michael tells him and gets out himself quickly so that he can be the one to pull Dean to his feet.

“Good little soldier, you,” Dean teases but doesn’t flinch away when Michael takes his hand, and soon they are standing in the sun surrounded by birds singing on both shores of the lazy river.

Michael lets the remark slide and follows Dean to the front of the Impala.

For a long minute Dean stops and only stands in the sun, golden grass under his feet, the light breeze passing over the river caresses his cheeks and musses his sandy blonde hair. He takes a deep breath, holds it in then exhales with a small, content smile curling at the edge of his lips.

“So, why did you want to come here?” Michael asks cocking his head to the side.

Dean turns back to him and walks back to the car to then settle on the hood, his feet resting on the bumper. His smile shifted into one that always made Michael’s heart clench.

“I have always loved this car, you know,” Dean started. He put one hand on the polish with so much care. “There were times, when, ugh, you could say this was my home. Dad and Mom fought and I ended up travelling with Dad for a while. Just the Impala, us, his old cassettes collection and the road. I- I… Dad promised if I was good I will have her.”

He shook his head.

“That’s clearly not going to happen. But, I was so obsessed with her that when I was fifteen, Dad promised, if I got all C’s in my record he’d teach me to drive. I nailed it, Mike. I got all C’s and even two B’s and an A somehow.”

Michael smiles and leans in to kiss Dean on the cheek. When he wants to pull back to give Dean more space, the blond’s hand is twisted in the hem of his shirt, the other’s fingers in his belt loops keeping him between Dean’s knees.

Dean gives Michael a bashful smile before he drops his head to rest on Michael’s collarbone.

“By next summer I learnt to drive. I still can, you know. Just as I could rebuild her in my sleep… But Dad didn’t let me drive on my own just yet. Mom always joked that he loved the Impala better than her… I was sixteen when I finally could. I was so excited I could barely sleep. Damn, even an Apocalypse coming couldn’t have stopped me from finally taking her on a drive on my own. I swear I would have chased the Deil back to Hell if I had to!

“… This was where I took Sammy. We were just sitting out here for hours. Not a long drive, I know but…”

“It’s important. I get it,” Michael murmured into Dean’s hair.

“We came here often afterwards. I was driving, Sammy bitching about the music. Star gazing, studying. Sometimes I came alone. Even when I could drive further I just came here. I like it here…”

Around the end the confession grew so soft, the words were barely more than Dean’s breath ghosting warm at Michael’s collar.

They stand as they are for long minutes. Allowing the sun to warm their shoulders and back, the shadows to stretch and pull back like the heavy waves on the shore. There is the scent of water in the breeze, the fresh aroma of green.

Suddenly, something screeches in the distance. Dean jumps, and Michael has to tighten his hold around him just to be sure. Dean erupts in embarrassed chuckles and bumps his head back against Michael’s shoulder.

He leans back, as if he was zapped and Michael is just getting worried if he got stung or something but the next second Dean’s mouth is searching for his, mouthing along his jaw until he finds lips and they kiss. First Michael is a bit slow on the uptake but as soon as Dean’s tongue swipes along the seam of his lips he is more than ready to deepen their kiss.

It quickly leads to a long make-out session where Dean’s legs are wrapped around Michael’s hips, one hand buried in his hair making a good job that there is no way Michael could rearrange it into anything that doesn’t look like as if he just got out of bed after a night of sex, while Dean’s other hand is wandering under Michael’s shirt, mapping out the warm skin with teasing light touches. On the other hand Michael’s own fingers are digging into Dean’s hips, and tracing the line of his spine that always leaves him shuddering deliciously.

“Enough touchy-feely for this year?” Dean asks eventually. His voice is hoarse, breathy, but not debauched enough, so Michael feels compelled to bite down on his shoulder. That makes Dean yelp and jump in his seat.

“Why do you have to ruin our moments all the time?”

“Lucifer ruins our moments _all_ the time.”

Michael tears away from Dean’s neck wincing.

“Could you not bring up my brother when we are intimate?”

“Ooh, someone’s getting mortified here,” Dean drawls. His hand is slowly trailing down to settle on his belt buckle. “I wonder how much that affects you though…”

“Enough to suspect you are up to something.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” Dean is a great master of looking innocent as a newborn baby, but right now he is only as the cat who just ate the canary with the bird’s yellow feathers still sticking out of its mouth.

“Naaah.”

“Dean.”

“What? I could be nice. Or horny. It’s nice, and calm, and warm, and you are all hot over me, I can be horny,” the blond pinches his lips into another pout.

Michael wants to slap himself that it took him this long to figure out what Dean wanted.

“We are not having public sex so that I would let you drive back,” he states firmly.

“The back seat is kinda comfortable if that’s your problem.”

“Not even semi-public sex, Dean.”

“You’re impossible. Okay, our school starts sooner than Luce’s, right? We have an empty apartment for –hmpf!”

“Dean, stop it.” Dean nips at Michael’s palm over his mouth and makes muffled sounds of dismay. “You are not going to buy me, because we are going to spend the next two days in bed either way.” Dean huffs irritated. “Still no. You know the place, I got it, but there are so many things that can go wrong, love. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You know I care for you more than the car.”

Since they got together Michael’s emotional scale has broadened spectacularly. Now he can do honest, he can do gentle and loving. It feels strange and amazing all the same.

Dean sags in his hold. He knows what the tone change means.

“Sorry,” Michael breathes a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

After a pause of miserable silence Dean brushes his nose along Michael’s jawline.

“Please.” He wouldn’t be Dean Winchester if he gave up so easily. “Just as long until I can put her into second gear. Nothing more, I swear. The road goes on straight long enough that nothing can happen, please, Michael?” He speaks hushed and quick, small pearly rosary of prayers against Michael’s throat.

“Dean, no.”

“Please, I swear. You can have my share of pie if I don’t stop after she’s in second gear.”

That’s the last straw Michael can take. He takes Dean’s face between his hands and kisses his boyfriend deep and sloppy.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t have to say anything Dean’s face is already lit up by the brightest grin ever.

“Second gear.”

“Second gear,” Dean promises.

Like a five year old on Christmas Morning he scrambles off the hood to slip into the driver’s seat quicker than the flash of lightning. When he pats down his pocket, Michael realizes that the keys are already out of his reach. He has been played royally.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. I know, Michael is a bit off in this one, but let's just say, being in love makes strange things to a man. 
> 
> Also, to make this a proper verse (i can't believe it! It's not like I don't have enough on my plate already!) I'd probably welcome some prompts :) And as soon as I find writing less difficult other parts are coming along :)


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